


Evil begets evil

by NTK



Series: Who needs plans anyway [7]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Angst, Feral Behavior, Geraskier, Idiots in Love, Kidnapping, M/M, Mpreg, Not Beta Read, Omega Jaskier | Dandelion, Omega Verse, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:28:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24148954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NTK/pseuds/NTK
Summary: Sequel to ‘Bare-knuckled causality’ –  Jaskier is gone and all hell breaks loose. Hell being a certain witcher, who starts losing more and more of his self-restraint. While his friends grow desperate, the bard gets to meet old and new faces – all of which he could do without in his current situation…
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Who needs plans anyway [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1700353
Comments: 31
Kudos: 226





	Evil begets evil

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my people, it has been a WEEK! But neither Corona-times nor me moving can keep me from writing on this series (even if this part came later than I promises, sorryyyy). I still enjoy it so much – especially now that the whole clusterfuck is about to blow up. As always, I thank you for reading, kudo-ing and commenting! After spending many months working on my first book and trying to find a publisher, reading that there are people who enjoy what I do gives me so much energy and hope!! So thank you again and again, from the bottom of my heart.  
> By the way, the title of this segment is a quote from one of my favourite films, The Fifth Element. If you don’t know it, I highly recommend you use some of that Corona free-time and watch it 😉  
> But now, onwards with the havoc!

He awoke with a throbbing headache and the sensation of something tugging on his pants. Even before he managed to open his eyes, an impulse had him jerk away and with a squeak, the rat -probably- fled.

“Sorry, I would have shooed it off, but I can’t reach you from here.”

Jaskier opened his eyes. He lay on a cold, hard surface, looking up to a dark ceiling. As he adjusted to the lack of light, the bard made out a wet stone wall next to him. To his three other sides, narrow metal bars stretched all the way from the bottom to the top of the room, giving him just enough space to stretch out as he lay.

He heard his own hazy groan when he sat up slowly. The back of his head felt wet and as he checked up on it, his hand came back around covered in red. The blood hadn’t dried. How long had he been out? How long had he been- wherever he was? Judging by his wound, just a couple of hours.

“Feel better now?”

The bard blinked. In a separate cell next to his sat a man; tall and slender, with longer blond hair. He leaned on the wall and weakly smiled at him. From what the bard could see, his forearms were bruised, as was his face. A long, fresh cut stretched over the right side of it, from his forehead down to his cheek – not unlike Geralt’s scar.

 _Geralt_. Fuck, how did Jaskier end up here? One moment they had been watching fireworks outside the house and the next-

“Fuck, that bitch.”, he muttered and his nails scraped over the ground as he clenched his fists.

“Who now?”

Jaskier couldn’t speak; anger and hurt had settled in his throat. How could she? What the fuck was going on?

“Hey there, did they damage your head?”

He gulped. “No. I’m fine… I think. For now.”

“Thank the gods. Now that I finally have some company, I’d prefer it if they didn’t turn you into a blabbering mess.” He laughed. It didn’t sound ill-intended. “So what did they take you for?”

Someone had changed his clothes while he’d been unconscious. A loose linen shirt and a pair of equally rough pants covered up his swollen belly. Had that been intentional? Then again, the other prisoner wore the same rags. Jaskier wasn’t sure if he should share his little secret with the stranger.

“Indecency.”, he simply stated.

The handsome man raised his eyebrows in an amused fashion.

“You don’t say? Well, if you plan on continuing that, I’d best tell you upfront that I am taken.” Judging by the half-smile on his face, probably an attempt to lighten the mood.

“As am I.”

The other sighed. “Then I am sorry that they got you. Although I cannot for the love of Melitele understand why a pair like those would mind indecency of any kind.”

“Who are ‘they’ exactly?”

“Hell, if I knew. A man and a women; didn’t look like your common thugs, but they are strong.” He groaned in pain as he sat up straight. “Strong and fucking mean. Let’s just say their kink is a lack of consent in their unwilling punching bags.”

A shiver ran through the bard and without noticing at first, his hand wandered to his abdomen. Geralt would find him. He and the others would find him before it came to that.

“I am Pierre by the way. Please excuse my lack of proper protocol; I’d shake your hand but I’d rather sit here a while longer and suffer, ha.”

“At least they didn’t punch the good humour out of you.”, the bard huffed. “I’m Julian.”

“Good to meet you. Although I would have preferred the circumstances being different.”

“That makes two… can you tell me where we are?”

Pierre shrugged. “Some castle, I think. I was dragged here with a hood over my head, but they brought me to a different part to beat me up; some kind of torture chamber.”

“What did they do that for?”

Pierre spat on the ground next to him. “Sheer pleasure. Didn’t ask me anything; didn’t interrogate me – just gave me a good beating.”

“So you don’t know why you’re here?”

The blond hesitated briefly, then shook his head. “I have a hunch. But surely didn’t do anything wrong; nothing to deserve this.”

The omega’s thoughts ran wild. He’d been sure about the reasons for his own abduction, but it didn’t add up with Pierre’s story. Unless…

“Are you… are you perhaps pregnant?”, he asked hesitantly.

The man’s eyes grew wide. “Uhm. No. I’m a beta. Why do you ask?”

“No reason.”, he quickly replied before adding. “I thought I heard someone say something about a pregnancy when I was half-conscious.”

“Well. Don’t know if there are other prisoners apart from us, but I sure wouldn’t want to be pregnant in here.”

You don’t say, the bard thought but before he could ask the other inmate anything else, numb thuds became audible somewhere in the distance. Footsteps, and coming closer.

Pierre groaned, apparently not happy about the approaching guests. Jaskier backed away from the lock of his cell and against the stone wall. A moment later, the heavy wooden door at the end of the room opened. Two people entered and when the bard recognized their faces, he shouted inwardly.

\- - -

The bedroom of the narrow city house exploded. The ones responsible were past caring if any of the neighbours minded as they stepped out of the portal and onto the squeaking upper floor. There, at the foot of the bed and half underneath it, a middle-aged man with a patch of black hair and a long nose cowered with his hands above his head.

“Professor Zaytsev, I presume.”, the dark-haired sorceress greeted him.

“Y-Yes…?”, he stuttered when the three strangers towered above him. Then, he seemed to recognize the witcher.

“Oh god, shit-“

‘Gerard’ took him by the collar and threw him on the half-demolished bed. Three days. It had been three days since Jaskier had been taken. Emilia was gone too. Which, and they all agreed on this by now, could only mean one thing: She’d been in on this sick game all along. Which meant that either she herself or her superior had planned the first kidnapping attempt and knew all plans the witcher and his friends had discussed regarding keeping the bard safe.

In the end, because no one came up with a better plan, Geralt had demanded to storm the professors house. He was beyond thinking strategically and ‘securing favours’ – Jaskier was gone and the witcher slowly felt like he was descending into madness.

“WHERE DID YOU TAKE HIM?”

The man sputtered and coughed when the third intruder stepped forward with grim determination and twisted her hand, magically binding him to the bed. “You better speak if you want to keep your vocal cords.”, Triss threatened.

“It wasn’t me, I swear!”

“Then who?”, shouted the witcher.

“D-Dijkstra! Chancellor Dijkstra!”

“How the hell does he come into this?”, the ginger sorceress demanded to know.

“I went to him… when the university cut the funding and my colleagues abandoned our research. They thought we failed when the spy we’d hired couldn’t find any pregnant whores along his way.” He nodded in Geralt’s direction. ”B-But I couldn’t just let it stand like this. We were so close! The reverse mutation simply hadn’t taken a hold back then. And I was right, wasn’t I, haha. It worked out in the end.”

The witcher’s fist was in his stomach faster than anyone could stop him. The man coughed and wailed.

“Geralt, we need him!”, Yen warned.

Reluctantly and with gritted teeth, he took a step back. “Go on then.”

“Ugh. I-I… approached a Redanian official. Asked him if he was interested in something that would ensure Redanian rule for all eternity.”

“…and then they funded you.”

The shaking professor nodded.

“We were able to continue the observation. When the duchess of Toussaint rewarded you with the vineyard and it looked like you would stay there for the foreseeable future, we hired locals. A pair of Redanian spies. They told us that you were traveling with an omega. S-So with the help of an associate from the chancellor… some lady and her lackey, we set a trap. So the omega would e-enter his heat.”

When the puzzle pieces finally clicked into place, Geralt’s couldn’t move a muscle, yet he felt on fire. This whole thing; the contract, the time they’d spent on the river bank, their bond… it had all been planned. Like lab rats, they’d been tricked into breeding.

“You repulsive piece of scum.”, Triss hissed and when the man cried out, it was surely based on whatever organ her chaos had just chosen to twist. Yen stepped forward, a warning hand raised, telling her colleague to stop. Triss did, with a frustrated sigh.

Geralt feared that if he said or did anything, he’d just kill the man before him. The tiny part of him that still had reason however knew that he couldn’t just turn their only way to finding Jaskier into a puddle of blood on the ground – even if the beast inside of him roared and fought to get to the surface to do exactly that.

“Where is the omega?”, Yen’s authoritative voice echoed through the room. “Speak or I unleash his furious mate on you!”

The professor whimpered. “W-When we learned that our plan had worked, we decided to capture him before you could find out about the pregnancy. But the spies failed their first attempt. The lady sent someone else after that, but he failed too and then, the omega was by your side constantly. So it was decided to wait out the first trimester, until the fetus was stable, and take him at the next best opportunity.”

Geralt was confused for a moment. Who’d tried to kidnap Jaskier before the mula attacked him in the woods? But it was Yen who kept a calm head and asked the more important question:

“Take him where?”

“Novigrad, eventually. The spies’ estate first. Castel T-Toricella. He should still be there.”

“And these spies, what are their names?”

“Catillon. Verona and Meras Catillon.”

\- - -

“You…?!”

The siblings smiled down on him. “Well, well. We get to have some fun with you after all, songbird.”, the voluptuous dark-haired Verona snickered. She held a thick club in one of her hands and her eyes were wide and bloodshot, as were her brothers’. They both seemed agitated.

“You should have followed our invitation back then.”, Meras snarled. “Can’t promise it will be as comfortable this time around.”

Behind them, a third person stepped through the doorway; a guard, carrying two trays and a mug. Verona pointed her finger at Pierre. “Lady Orianna says this one doesn’t get any water.”

Jaskier had heard that name before. Wasn’t she Emilia’s liege; the one who threatened her and her mate with exile? “Fuck, that’s why…”, he mumbled without taking his eyes of the treacherous Catillons. “Why do you do this? What did she promise you?”

“Why, immortality of course.”, Meras outright replied. His gaze was unfocused; his hands shook slightly and Jaskier started to doubt that he was in his right mind.

When the guard placed the plates before their cell doors, Pierre huffed, which turned into and ache as he stood up, holding his bruised side. “You know, it doesn’t work like that. Vampires can’t just turn you into one of them, believe me.”

“And you would know all about that, right.”, Meras shouted at him.

“A great deal more than you, it seems. I studied them.” He took a step towards his cell door and wrapped his hands around two of the bars

Verona came closer to Pierre’s cage, a grin on her face that would have warned Jaskier, but when he wanted to call out to the other man, she had already struck her bludgeon against the metal and his fingers – some of which were surely broken thereafter. The man cried out, stumbled back and held his hand.

“Good for you, I guess.”, she said as if she’d just patted him on the shoulder. “But you can spare us your petty lies. We know who you are. And if you keep flapping that big mouth, she’ll get you back in pieces.”

While Pierre cowered in the corner close to Jaskier’s cell, holding his injured hand, Meras started laughing like a maniac – until his sister struck him with her club too. “Shut it, you idiot! Get yourself together, you behave like a common lunatic!”

When they turned to leave, Verona first followed by her somewhat rebuked brother, Jaskier called: “What happens now? Where is Emilia?”

But neither of the two answered before they left the room and slammed the heavy door shut behind them. Fuck.

The silence thereafter was only corrupted by Pierre’s painful gasps and a few droplets of water from the ceiling hitting the stone floor. The bard shuffled over to the corner where Pierre sat.

“Show me your hand.”, he offered and extended his own as an invitation. “Come on, I’ve taken care of one or two injuries before.”

After a moment, the blond followed and reached though the bars. Jaskier carefully examined the damage.

“Hmm. As I thought: Two broken, one maybe just contused. The breaks seem clean though. If we find something to stabilise them-“

But the strained voice of his neighbour interrupted him: “How do you know Emilia?”

**\- - -**

“They will know that I’m gone! And send him to Novigrad right away!”

Geralt and the witches had taken Zaytsev back through the portal to Toussaint with them, where Eskel quickly strapped him to a chair in the hall. Not that the man would stand a chance against the lot but at this point, none of them were prepared to take any more risks.

“Then we better hurry.”, Lambert retorted.

“You don’t understand! The lady, Dijkstra’s contact, she’s a vampire! She’s with the spies! I think she… might not hand the subject over at all! She’s been far too keen to assist the chancellor. I think she wants the child for herself.” He gasped. “We might never get a chance to observe the pregnancy or examine the outcome… years of research, wasted on a greedy bloodsucker.”

That was it.

Geralt rushed over and would have smashed the man’s head in a second later – if Yen’s magic didn’t freeze his fist in place mere inches from the Zaytsev’s head.

“Yen…”

“No.”

“You better fucking let me pass.” The professor shrieked.

“I can’t let you kill him. Think about it. Without him, there would be no one to save.”

“Exactly!”

“You wouldn’t have a child if it weren’t for him! Whatever the means. Think, Geralt. Many more of us need what he has created.”

To her astonishment, he managed to rip himself out of her grip and instead of pursuing Zaytsev, stepped towards Yen. “You mean YOU!”

She neither flinched nor broke their eye contact. “Among others.”

Next to them, Triss fumbled uncomfortably. “She’s not wrong. Despite what he did to you and Jaskier. His achievement is a breakthrough many could benefit from.” Her gaze drifted to the other two witchers – until Lambert sighed and shrugged.

“I guess…”

Eskel crossed his arms and shook his head. “Hell no. Thanks, not me.”

The rage made his ears ring. They had no time to lose and yet here they were, starting to justify what had caused all this? Geralt had been grateful when Triss rushed to their help as soon as Yennefer had given her a short briefing on the situation. But as it so often turned out with sorceresses, that may not have been purely selfless.

“You’re willing to meddle with a child’s life like that on purpose, not knowing what would become of it?” He cursed loudly. “Even you, Lambert, after the years of complaining about how destiny fucked you over by making you a witcher?”

“Fuck, you’re not in a position to take that choice away from me, Geralt!”, his brother shouted and Triss next to him put a flat hand on his chest to keep him from approaching the other alpha.

Yen stepped in between the two snarling witchers, facing Geralt. “I suggest you go for a walk while we make last preparations.” She invaded his personal space, leaning close to his ear. “Step back. I know you can’t help it, but I got this.”

Whether her words held some sort of spell or not, eventually, the beast in him let him retreat and Geralt headed straight for the door. Fresh air. Away from everyone, just a moment. He needed to trust them. They knew what was at stake. He needed to-

Only when he arrived at the lonely tree in between the grapevines; the one he’d visited with Jaskier whenever they could sneak away, his steps faltered. This spot… worked like a gut punch, pressing all air out of his lungs and the witcher had to grasp for the trunk to hold onto.

He’d failed his mate and their unborn child; he’d left them in the hands of the very person who was in with the enemy. If he’d lose them… fuck, he couldn’t even think about it without the taste of blood appearing on his tongue and his vision blurring with red mist.

Without thinking his fist struck the thick bark next to him, leaving him with bloody knuckles and the tree with an actual dent. Yes, he wanted to trust his friends. But if they hadn’t come up with something quick, concise and immediate when he was back, he’d either take matters into his own hands or burn down the whole fucking duchy.

\- - -

For hours, none of them had said anything. Pierre had pressured him at first; called to him, asked him what was wrong, several times in fact; he wouldn’t stop, especially when Jaskier had drawn his knees close and lowered his head between his arms, hiding his face from the man… the man who was the reason he was here.

He wouldn’t tell him; couldn’t tell him that he was the sole purpose of Jaskier’s misery. If Pierre didn’t already know. The bard couldn’t even decipher if he just feigned obliviousness or if Emilia had indeed not told her lover what she’d been up to; what she had done to save him from Orianna’s wrath…

_Finally, it all makes sense._

When the bard lifted his head eventually, his cell neighbour was still staring at him, his eyes filled with concern and many questions.

“She must truly love you.” His own voice sounded small. He felt small. And stupid. “It is you. You are her mate, are you not?”

Pierre shifted uncomfortably on his spot on the ground. The meagre meals they had received had held nothing that they could’ve used as a splint, so he still held his swollen fingers in his other hand.

“And what if I am? You didn’t answer my question earlier. How do you know her?”

Despite the bottomless sadness in him, Jaskier smiled. They had been sat up; played like the fools they were. And now Orianna or whoever else was behind it got what they wanted.

“I found your shoe. By the river, about three months ago.” He leaned his head back against the stone wall. “I’d give it back, but I didn’t have it on me when I was taken. Sorry.”

A gasp from the other cell. “That… was you?”

“Does it matter if it was me or anyone else? Did you know what you were doing? Why you lured us into the mountains, sent us running around in circles?”

Pierre was silent for a bit, before saying: “I don’t know exactly what that was about. Only that it was necessary.”

“For you and Emilia to escape Orianna’s clutches, yes. Ah, you know, it doesn’t even matter if you tell the truth or not.”

“But I am!”

“It doesn’t matter.”, the bard repeated wearily. “We are stuck here now. Well, I am. Your vampire did her job just fine and I imagine you’ll be free soon. Or not, if Orianna has other dirty work that needs to be done.”

Pierre huffed and it sounded frustrated. “I don’t understand what you are saying. I know Emilia was bothered after that guy attacked me one night… another vampire; an alp, like her, I think. She saved me; killed him. After that, I moved into her lair.” A faint smile appeared on his face when he thought about her. Jaskier thought about Geralt, Corvo Bianco… and although he wanted to fight the compassion, he could relate. “We couldn’t have been happier, but she seemed worried all the time. Wouldn’t tell me why. And then, about ten days ago or so, when she was out doing something, I was taken.”

“As I said… it doesn’t matter. All that matters to your mate is that she loves you. And who knows, had I been in her shoes… maybe I’d even made the same choices.” If Geralt’s life had been at stake, he’d have done anything – even things he would never be able to atone for.

Before Pierre could comment on what was surely just nonsense to his ears, the door of the dungeon opened with a squeak. This time, it wasn’t the spy siblings, but a young lady with a fair face and elegantly pinned-up ginger hair.

“Hello gentlemen. I hope I am not interrupting.”

Jaskier managed to move his cold, numb feet to get up. He didn’t want to cower or kneel before _her_ , at least for as long as that was up to him.

“Lady Orianna.”

She quirked an amused eyebrow at him. “Manners and wit. Two things I have always valued. Too bad, under different circumstances, I would have asked you to join the Mandragora, Master Dandelion.”

“Please forgive my bluntness, m’lady, but that would have been a wasted offer. If I recall correctly, the Mandragora prefers artists of mediocre talent at most.”

Orianna looked him in the eye – before she burst into laughter. Pierre, who was evidently lost, stared at them both in turn. That lucky fucking bastard.

“Emilia wasn’t wrong; you are truly not boring.”, she snickered. “I appreciate you don’t waste time trying to bargain with me.”

“Why would I? Nothing I want belongs to you.”

Her smirk didn’t falter when her gaze went down to his belly. “We both know that’s not true. But if you need me to spell it out for you to come terms with reality: Everything you want belongs to me. Your freedom, your life, your child. Who knows, if he dares to show up here, even your witcher.”

Being the creature that she was, she could probably smell his fear and panic, but he would be damned if he didn’t do his best to deny her the satisfaction of seeing it on his face.

“Julian?! What is she talking about?“

Her gaze went to the shocked Pierre in his cell and turned thoughtful. “You didn’t even tell him?”

“Leave him out of it. I believe you had an agreement with Emilia, right?” Jaskier lifted his hands in a classic ‘Ta-Daaa’ expression. “Well, here I am. She has fulfilled her part, so let him go.”

When Orianna’s hand reached through the bars and a finger touched the bard’s cheek in a seemingly caring way, he mustered all his willpower to not shy away. “You are concerned. About him? That might just be the most noble, selfless gesture I have witnessed in a human.” When she let go of him and turned to leave, the bard felt as if he’d held his breath. “But you are not making deals for me. He stays put for the time being. However, I will administer your relocation to more comfortable quarters. After all, you carry precious cargo. I have always had a weak spot for children.” Even from behind, Jaskier could make out her throat work around the last word. A cold chill ran down his spine.

“Geralt will come for me.”, he said lowly but knowing that she could still hear him. “You know that. And when he’s here, your eternity ends.”

At the door, Orianna stopped and slowly turned her head back at him, a small smile on her beautiful lips.

“You know, back in the day, witchers knew their place. But even then, they meddled with things far beyond their responsibility. What are they but murderers in the name of mere humans? Maybe you should be grateful we take it from you. Evil begets evil.” He tried to supress a whimper when her gaze turned to his midsection once again and suddenly held something hungry. “I might even keep it. Turn it into my own little witcher. I wonder what it will taste like.”

He was glad when she finally left them for good after that. The shame of his knees buckling under him wasn’t something he wanted her to witness. His own panic screamed at him, rang in his ears while Pierre tried once again to get through to him, talk to him, grasping his shoulder through the bars.

But all the bard could do was sending silent prayers through the fog of fear and despair in his mind.

_Please. Please, hurry._

\- - -

“We will get him back. I promise you that.”

The witcher opened his eyes. His attempt to meditate had been doomed to fail either way but pacing and fighting trees had proven an even worse option. When Geralt looked up, Regis stood before him. They had barely spoken since Emilia had taken Jaskier.

“If you want to beat someone up in the meantime, I suppose it would only be fair to offer my services.”

In any other situation, the witcher would have laughed at that. Not now though.

“How did she deceive you? The rest of us, sure. But you?”

The vampire’s head fell and a pained expression put a shadow over his features. “I don’t know. I believe her struggle was real. I am also certain that she genuinely tried to help us, as best she could under the circumstances. But Orianna is cunning and stronger than her. If she held her leash and gave her an ultimatum… well.”

Geralt got up. The meditation had truly been a waste of time, since all it took for his rage to be rekindled was his friend’s empathy. “Don’t want to hear how hard it must have been for her – she made her choice and you know what that means.”

The vampire’s sigh was heartfelt. “If she hurt him, or Orianna did, I will assist you. However, if we find him unharmed, I would implore you-“

“No Regis, not this time.”

“You were compassionate towards Dettlaff-“

“And maybe that was a mistake.”

Regis looked taken aback, but the witcher continued, nonetheless. “Look at the lives lost on the attack of Beauclair. An attack Dettlaff launched and for what – because a mischievous duchess in exile manipulated him? What did that have to do with the citizens, the shopkeepers, the families; the children that were torn by his katakans and ekimmaras? I’m starting to think that I have neglected the purpose of my trait for long enough.”

“Geralt-“

“NO! You justified his actions even after that; how many more have to be killed for you to understand-“

“I dealt with him in the end, have I not? A dear friend who I owe my life to and I killed him because it was the right thing to do, even though it exiled me for eternity!” They stared at each other, defiance and pain fighting within both. “Don’t accuse me of being blind to the damage that was done. Jaskier is dear to me, you know that. But what would you have done if you were in her shoes? If it had been Jaskier Orianna threatened, or even just one of us? Don’t tell me you have never chosen-“

“The lesser evil?”, Geralt spat.

Somewhere above them, a bird chirped, as if he wanted to get in on their argument. Regis took a deep breath and turned away, facing the fields across the short distance between them and the house.

“I cannot blame you for your rage and believe me, her betrayal pains me as well. You are perhaps my closest friend and I care deeply for Jaskier. I also know that you know right from wrong, so whatever you decide to do, I trust you remember that when the time comes.”

The witcher saw no satisfactory end to their discussion. Yes, he knew what he would do and whatever point his friend had in her favour, the wounded beast in him would not let her get away with her crime against Jaskier and himself. Even if it meant disappointing Regis.

“We should get back. I’ve had enough of the waiting.”, he hesitated but then added: “Will you stay?”

Regis nodded. “Of course. I am with you. Even after all this, please don’t ever doubt that.”

Geralt clasped the vampire’s shoulder in what he hoped was a reassuring and propitiative gesture.

“I don’t.”

\- - -

It took some time before the door of their prison opened again.

“Time to take the princess to her quarters.”, Verona announced while Meras fiddled with a set of keys and opened Jaskier’s cell. He gulped.

As Meras’ strong grip on his arm shoved him out of the cage and towards the door, Pierre jumped up. “You know she’ll have your head if you hurt him.”

Verona shot him a condescending look. “Worried we’ll neglect you? Don’t worry about that; I feel like we’ll spend some time with you before the day is over.”

Jaskier turned to look back at the blond man, but he didn’t know what to say. Before he really decided to do so, he shot him a weak smile and realised that despite everything, he wished for him to make it out of here. It wasn’t his fault, after all. No, it wasn’t. He deserved to get away. Find a bit of happiness, if he could.

“Julian!”

“Shut up, vampire-bitch.”, Verona shouted and kicked against his cage before she followed her brother. Jaskier already wished himself back to the prison as Meras pushed him to walk forward. Where would the sadistic bastards take him? Up a narrow staircase, then another and one more before they led him into a corridor. Daylight from small windows blinded him and he held up his hands to shield his eyes. How long had he been in the dark? Two days? It was warmer up here. As they walked on, the finer décor suggested that they were now in the living quarters of the castle. It had to be a castle, judging by the distance they’d covered between the dungeon and the upper part.

When Verona passed Meras and him to approach a door and unlock it, her hands were shaking like the ones of a dried-out alcoholic. Jaskier wondered once again why their behaviour struck him as odd.

“What if Pierre is right and Orianna is lying to you?”

She eventually opened the door and Meras led him into a small room containing a plush bed, two drawers and an opulent washing basin.

“He’s not right. And even if, this is still the bargain of a lifetime. The lady’s offer is just the cherry on top.” Verona pushed him onto the bed and held him down with an unnaturally strong hand while Meras took a rope out of the drawer next to him. “We have gotten used to a certain lifestyle. Fortifying concoctions of the finest quality. Hmm, they make you strong, fast; give you sensation you wouldn’t believe. Everything feels so much more intense…” So that’s what they were. Potion addicts. “Sadly, our parents don’t approve. Luckily, sharing information from the court with our friends in the North proved a reliable source for coin to… forcefully retire mother and father and quietly take over the estate.”

The North?

“See, here I am spoiling the surprise. In a way, you will go home.” Verona pointed to his bump and pinched it. “A unique commission by your old friend, the chancellor. You do know each other, don’t you?”

Jaskier gasped. Dijkstra, the men he wanted to ask for help only days ago. Seems he was just as rotten and soulless as his predecessor, the mad king. How fitting.

“Either way, all things considered, the witcher owes him his fertility and so you owe him this child. An army of witchers for Redania – and you’re carrying the prototype. What a grant service for your country.”

Meras groaned. “Stop chatting and help me with his. My hands are shaking… and you-” He pointed his knife towards Jaskier’s throat. “You better hold still.”

As Verona assisted her brother with the rope on Jaskier’s wrists and ankles, drawing it way too tight, he tried to keep calm – which was getting more difficult by the minute. How could Orianna leave him with these two utter junkies?

Verona tied the last knot and Meras sat down next to Jaskier, extended a hand to stroke his cheek while the other was still holding the knife to him. “Just a precaution; I’m sure you understand. If anything were to happen to you, say, you decided to jump out of the window, we’d be in trouble. However no one ever said we couldn’t entertain you in the time you are our guest…”

His hand travelled lower, over the bard’s throat and into the low neckline of his shirt, stroking his chest. “You know, you’re quite valuable yourself if you make it through this. I’m sure they’d want to utilise you. Gather some more witchers, sorcerers too… they’d fuck you one after another and knock you up again and again.” The spy moaned. “Just thinking about it makes me hard. Maybe they’ll let us watch, as a bonus for the excellent services we have provided for the Redanian empire.”

When Verona sat down to his other side, mimicking the position from back when they had tried to seduce him in the pup a few months back, he felt utterly trapped. It was only when she pushed up his shirt and lay her hand flat on his swollen abdomen that the bard began to feel sick. An instinct had him try and clasp his stomach protectively, but his hands were tied. He was at their mercy, and it seemed they had none.

“A supernatural army for Redania, from your body. The omega every magical being gets to spill its seed in.”, she laughed mercilessly. “For once, my idiot brother is right. That would be a sight to behold. Maybe we invite a few friends, sell tickets. I know Dijkstra doesn’t mind money and your ass would be worth more than gold.”

When her hand travelled further south, he wanted to scream. Whatever her plans for him, Orianna wouldn’t let them do this; she wouldn’t let them-

A firm hand gripped his throat. Nothing but a choked sound escaped him as Meras leaned down and captured his lips.

“But we’ll have you before any of them do.”, his sister snarled. “After all, you still have to make up for your witcher killing our dealer the night we met…” Her hand breached his waistband.

_God, no. Anything but that! Geralt!_

The door burst open.

“Get off him, you deviant degenerates.”

But it wasn’t the voice he’d hoped for.

“I need you in the courtyard. We’re expecting guests.”

When the weights were lifted of him and the pressure disappeared from his lungs, Jaskier desperately soaked in some air and coughed. His head felt hazy. The lack of air or another fever? Did it matter? Next to him, he heard Meras curse and Verona argue with Orianna, until a loud snap ended all protests. The vampire had backhanded Verona.

“Don’t get cocky with me. Whatever god complex your little potions gave you, I can still pulverise your spines with two fingers.” Jaskier didn’t dare to look, but heard delicate footsteps approach the bed. “What are you still doing here? I believe I gave you orders.”

Another curse and the door was slammed shut. He was alone with Orianna, who looked down on him with a mixture of curiosity and what he had to assume was mock pity.

“My, my… this doesn’t seem to be your lucky day.”, the ginger said as she sat down and began to loosen the rope on his right wrist. “Some of your friends have arrived.”

Despite the dread and shock in his veins, Jaskier’s heart made a jump. He came. Of course he came, and in time. Orianna’s casual tone and absolute lack of concern however dampened his relief.

“To be honest, I hope these useless addicts get themselves killed in the fight. I don’t have to tell a smart man like you how much I despise them. But well, I guess every chessboard needs some pawns…”

When she had uncuffed his wrist, she took his hand in hers and placed it in her lap. As weird and inappropriate as it was, the bard recalled a similar scene, featuring his mother. He had been a boy, maybe nine or ten, and had come down with a bad flu. His mother would sit at his side day and night, holding his hand just like this, watching over him.

He looked up to Orianna. Her smile looked almost genuine, caring. Benevolent.

“What… what do you want?”, he managed to get out.

“In general? Just a peaceful life. Watching my children grow, taking more in when the older ones leave...”

She took his hand up to her face, placing his palm on her cheek. Her skin felt as cold as marble.

“…but in particular, I truly want to know the most refined tastes.”

Before he could do so much as breathe in surprise, she had sunken her fangs into his wrist.

\- - -

To the common onlooker, Castel Toricella in the midst of its surrounding vineyards would have seemed quiet and utterly ordinary under the half-moon that shone from the star-lit sky. The group appearing in front of its drawbridge that night couldn’t be fooled though. Eternal eyes saw the battalion of mercenary guards behind the walls shielding the castle grounds; enhanced senses heard their footsteps and smelled the uncertainty and fear in the air and deft magical hands silently searched the Castel for hidden shields and sources of ominent powers. Three witchers, two sorceresses and a vampire were perhaps the smallest and yet most deadly force to ever approach the small fortress.

Geralt nodded and Regis vanished, a thin line of smoke making its way to the tower where the bridge’s mechanics were located. Brief screams of surprise were silenced only seconds later and then, heavy chains heralded the lowering weight of their way in.

When they had come back from the ‘calming’ walk Yen ordered and found their friends still arguing about the best time and way to strike, Geralt’s fist had almost smashed the table. He’d then simply announced that he would go right fucking now, prepared to murder everyone in his way. The only small protest came in the form of Yennefer’s defeated sigh, before everyone had risen in unison to get ready for the task at hand. That had been two hours ago.

“Where would they keep him, somewhere cosy or the dungeon?”, Lambert asked as his cat-like eyes assessed the lights from the few tower windows.

“Could be both.”, Eskel murmured.

“You head to the dungeon; I search the tower. The rest takes care of the anyone standing in our way.”, Geralt stated.

“Agreed, but I am coming with you, my friend.” Regis had just reappeared next to him. “Orianna and I were close, a long time ago. Maybe I can help.”

As the witcher turned to look at his friend, Regis didn’t meet his eyes.

“There will be no reasoning tonight, Regis. No mercy.”

“I understand. And since my blindness is partly to blame, I will take full responsibility. As I said… I am with you, no matter what you decide to do.”

Geralt turned to face the bridge again. He didn’t have to decide anything; wouldn’t have the power. Jaskier was here, he could feel it. He’d find him, safe and sound and would still kill Orianna and her minions; all of them, the Catillons, their guards and finally, the cursed lying bitch that was Emilia.

As the draw bridge clicked into place above the shallow moat, they heard fast footsteps approach from the grounds.

“What a shitty night for everyone inside.”, Lambert huffed, one hand on the grip of his sword, the other toying with one of the various bombs from his assortment.

“Taking a pregnant omega to conduct experiments oh him? They will burn.”, Triss stated before conjuring a fireball in her hand.

“They will beg for their lives before the night is over.”, Yennefer added as the first battle cries made it over to them.

“No, they won’t.”, Geralt decided as he drew his steel sword and marched right up to welcome the approaching guards. This time, no one tried to stop him. He bared his teeth, lunged-

And let the beast run free.


End file.
